Den: 27.2.2021

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton. Pro Tebe, má lásko.Ze srdce.

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Kvůli použití zvukových efektů prosím doporučuji poslech ve sluchátkách. Due to the use of sound effects, I recommend listening in headphones. A zavřít oči, prosím, vážně…díky and close your eyes,seriously, thanks.

ORIZABA | Passengers in History
Rozšlápnul jsem vysušenou ptačí kostru.
Read and recorded FOR YOU LOVE in Studio Shaark

I stepped on the dried bird’s skeleton,

Lubomír Tomik,

and the tiny chest cracked,
I limped
someone put a bottle in my trail.

she pounded me with dolphin skin,
THE MAGIC beauty of His being,
someone asked:- A shot?-
answer: -Tomorrow, or in eleven days.-

It started to rain, the car chuckled uncertainly
water splashed out of the exhaust,
then he rode in the rain, in the distance over the mountains
it flashed,

he drove and thought of the man,
who burned his poems in the boiler room of the steamer Orizaba,
rolling black smoke
covered the sea
long
mourning
ribbon.

from ,,Dinner at Minski´s “ …i write this in 2016…….and now is reality.

Queue in the supermarket. Fronta v supermarketu.

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Fronta v supermarketu stock fotografie, royalty free Fronta v supermarketu obrázky | Depositphotos ®
Queue in the supermarket. Read and recorded for You in 2021 , For You. I write this in Year 2O16. Strange.
Queue in the supermarket.

Lubomír Tomik

 the beauty stood there thinking about the people in line in front of her
 there stood a guy thinking about the people in line in front of him
 I was standing there

 I remembered a beauty and a guy telling me what they were doing
 in line at the supermarket

 I remembered it and thought about the people in line in front of me

 On the twentieth day of March, thirteen hundred and forty-five,
 it looked like a sale of plague bacteria.


 Good buy, man.
From ,, Dinner at Minski´s “ /2016/

Zvuk zachycený při procházce městem.

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Sound captured while walking through the city.
Ukraine, 2015, photo by me.
Raed and recorded Sound captured while walking through the city. in Studio Shaark forYou, my far far far , love.
Sound captured while walking through the city.

Lubomír Tomik

 Sound captured while walking through the city
 it was like an echo of a shot,
 during the uprising.

  The heart rose,
tore through the chests of all involved,

 there was no one to hug anymore
 there was nowhere to write for mercy.

 Our hearts are mostly nice bitches,
 she thought,

 that beauty.

The saddest poem of all.

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The saddest poem of all. Read and recorded in Studio Shaark for You, my love.
The saddest poem of all.

Lubomir Tomik

 Cute druids fall from the trees,
 when swans take off above the river
 they flutter their wings.

Butts sing in the quiet bays of adolescence,
 ejaculation on wooden piers
 and moaning in the tents,
 the humidity of the saturday nights,
 the taste of the mouth alternating in the evening,

 I stood with a bottle of wine in front of the stage,
 the band was terrible and someone grabbed my shoulder,

 I turned , She suddenly kissing me,
 in the hall I had in my hand Her tongue and breast in mouth,
 outside we leaned against a tree,
 she took off my pants and said after a week: - So, we will continue ? -


 I can't remember Her face.
from the Dinner at Minski /2016/